Song of the Hopeless
by Schattengestalt
Summary: Sherlock believes that nothing will ever get between John and him after they have finally managed to get together. That is. until he overhears a conversation between John and a witness that shatters his whole world.
1. Choice of Words

**Author Notes**: Welcome to another multiple chapter story of mine. I plan on updating every Friday. Seeing as this story is already finished and only needs some editing I shouldn't have any problems to stick to this schedule.^^

And now: Enjoy the first chapter. :)

**Choice of Words**

"Don't ever call me on a Sunday morning again if it isn't at least a nine!" Sherlock glared at Lestrade and then threw a disgusted look in the direction of the crime scene. "Better yet, don't ever call me again on a Sunday morning. If you are too stupid to distinguish between a murder and an accident you wouldn't recognize an interesting case if it bite you."

Sherlock ignored the DI's sputtered denial as he marched past the body of the young woman on the pavement. Lestrade had called him at six in the morning to get him to the scene because the police hadn't been able to figure out why a woman had died after falling out a window on the first storey. Of course if they had looked - really looked - in her apartment they would have noticed the office chair underneath a lamp in front of the open window. And if they had gone into the kitchen they would have found the medication for her weak heart. Even Anderson could have figured out then that the victim had been electrocuted while trying to change a light bulb and that her falling out a window had happened by pure chance.

Sherlock sighed quietly as he checked the time on his phone. It was past nine in the morning now. Not especially late for a Sunday but Sherlock still doubted that John would be amenable to continue what they had started before Lestrade's call had interrupted them. It was actually strange that John didn't mind staying in bed till late afternoon if they had nothing on but refused to go back to bed once they had left it for the day. Oh, Sherlock didn't mean that his lover wasn't willing to have sex during the day. John wasn't picky about that but his lover also wasn't willing to lounge around in bed for hours after he had already been up and about. A hateful habit that Sherlock had yet to figure out how to break. Maybe it would be easier to convince his lover to get back into bed again in a few years when they had both got older and...

_"You know that John is only 37, brother mine," _the annoying voice of his brother reminded him. _"I estimate that you will have to wait 15 to 20 years until he feels his age in such a way that he is willing to share your bed for hours during the day. Are you sure that you will be allowed to witness this?"_

A low growl fell from Sherlock's lips and scared a young police officer away. Even in his Mind Palace Mycroft was annoying. There was no reason at all why John and he shouldn't be together anymore in twenty years if they were both still alive at the time. They had been a couple for two years already - the longest any of Sherlock's relationships had ever lasted - and he didn't see why they would ever break up. Certainly after John had found it in him to forgive Sherlock his faked suicide nothing could separate them anymore. Granted they had only been best friends when Sherlock had jumped but it had still been a miracle that John had accepted him back in his life. And more so that John had kissed him only one week after Sherlock's resurrection. Certainly a relationship that had started like this wouldn't end like Lestrade's marriage.

Mycroft kept quiet in his Mind Palace and Sherlock took this to mean that he had beaten his brother for once. He couldn't help the small grin of satisfaction that turned his lips upwards at this victory before he focused back on more important tasks than winning against his brother. Namely finding John to get back home and continue their interrupted Sunday. Maybe Mrs. Hudson could be persuaded to share some of her roast with them or they could go out for brunch. Both options were acceptable as Sherlock's stomach informed him with a growl. Now to find John...

Sherlock scanned the crime scene slowly. There were still some police officers and paramedics about but most of the police forces had been sent back home after it had become obvious that no crime had happened. There were more onlookers than professionals here now. Most of them tried to look worried or sad but Sherlock deduced in seconds that they were only there for a story to tell their friends later on. Disgusting.

Sherlock sneered at a man that was trying to look around the police vehicles to get a better look at what was going on when he finally spotted John. He stood with his back to Sherlock as he indulged in small talk with a woman that held a toddler in her arms. Ah yes, this was the neighbour who had found the body and called the police. John had told Sherlock that he would make sure that she was alright after Sherlock had started to rant at Lestrade for wasting their time.

Sherlock leaned back against the wall of the building and marvelled at how John smiled politely at the small child in the woman's arms. After all this time with John Sherlock still didn't understand how his lover could act so ordinary without giving away that he was bored to tears. Certainly, a mother of two that worked for an assurance company couldn't have anything interesting to say. Time to rescue John! Sherlock was just about to stroll over to his lover and safe him the effort of faking anymore polite smiles when the conversation they were having finally registered in his mind.

"Your Amy is a real angel."

The woman laughed at John's remark and stroked the hair of the little girl. "You should see her when her Daddy and I are trying to bath her. I always feel like battling a small army. Nevertheless, it's worth it in the end. Do you have children?"

Sherlock watched as John shook his head at the question. "Sadly, no."

Sadly?!

Sherlock blinked in confusion as his mind tried to wrap itself around this word. Certainly John wasn't implying...

"There is no reason why you can't still have children if you really want some."

"I have always wanted to have children but I haven't met the right woman..."

Sherlock didn't stay to listen to the rest of the conversation as he hurried towards the main street. He ignored Lestrade's attempt to talk with him and didn't even raise an eyebrow at whatever Donovan called after him. His mind was too focused on replaying the conversation he had just overheard to pay attention to anything mundane.

John wanted to have children!

Sherlock almost stumbled over his own feet as the realisation echoed through his Mind Palace. He ignored the angry expletive of a cyclist who had to swerve around him as he continued on his way. It would probably have been saver to hail a taxi but Sherlock needed to stay in motion to sort through his thoughts and feelings. The idea of sitting in a taxi for an hour long ride back to Baker Street appeared unbearable.

_"Or maybe you just can't stay the idea of seeing John so soon after he has destroyed your little dream."_

Sherlock stuffed his clenched hands into the pockets of his coat as he hunched his shoulders against the cold wind that sent colourful leaves dancing around his feet. If he hadn't overheard John's stupid admission then he wouldn't have to walk around a cold autumn morning to clear his head. Instead he would sit in a taxi while holding his lover's hand as they planned what to have for brunch and...

_"And you would be caught by surprise when John broke up with you to be with a woman and to have children of his own."_

Sherlock gulped in a huge amount of cold air as the truth of his brother's words shook his Mind Palace like an earthquake. Mycroft - at least the one in his mind - was right. Sherlock had always laughed at the mere idea that John and he would ever break up, that it wouldn't _work out _between them. Obviously though he had been a fool all along. The question had never been _if _they would break up but _when._

Sherlock's lips trembled as he bought a packed of cigarettes from a kiosk and lit the first one with practiced movements. At least now he could pretend that his eyes were watering from a combination of smoke and cold air. Not that anyone would pay attention to a man walking around with a burning cigarette in his hand on an ordinary Sunday morning. Not enough at least to notice the fine tremor in his fingers, his irregular breathing or the tears that gleamed unshed in his eyes.

_"You are melodramatic, brother mine."_

"Shut up!"

A woman with a dog looked at him strangely before she hurried away. Sherlock glared after her as he threw the cigarette butt onto the ground and fished out another one. Surely, this woman would applaud John's decision to find himself a woman to have children with.

_"It's completely normal to want children, Sherlock, _Mycroft sighed in his Mind Palace. _"As a scientist you should know that reproduction is a driving force for most species. You shouldn't be surprised that John wants to pass on his genes."_

And yet, he was. Sherlock kicked a pebble as he allowed his legs to carry him through a small park without checking which one it was. John had never mentioned that he wanted to be a father one day. If he had Sherlock would have made sure that his lover's wish was fulfilled. Surrogacy was a thing after all and while Sherlock wasn't keen on becoming a parent he wouldn't mind caring for a small human that shared John's genes. He stopped abruptly as his mind pointed out to him that this idea was still an option. He only needed to convince John that he would gladly raise a child with him. And while the idea of children wasn't very appealing to Sherlock as long as it was John's child it would be fine. Yes, this was...

_"I have always wanted to have children but I haven't met the right woman..." _John's words echoed through his Mind Palace and crushed the tiny seed of hope that had started to grow in Sherlock's heart.

_"Obviously this explains why your dear Doctor has never mentioned to you that he wants to have children, brother mine. He doesn't want to raise them with you. He wants an ordinary family with a pretty wife and a house in the suburbs. The days of your relationship are numbered."_

Sherlock didn't even have the energy to argue with Mycroft in his Mind Palace as he slumped back against a tree. Defeated. John was 37 years old now. He wouldn't want to be too old when he became a father. No, he was the kind of man who would want to run around outside with his children and play catch. John had also never seriously dated a woman that had been more than six years his junior. Considering that most woman wanted to have children before they turned 35 - at least from what data Sherlock had gathered - that only left John about three years to find a suitable woman.

_"Less than that, Sherlock. Most women don't start a family with someone they have only just met."_

Again Mycroft was right. Why couldn't he even be wrong when he was only talking in Sherlock's own Mind Palace?! So, one to two years then until John would leave him for a woman. Sherlock took a shaking breath and coughed as the cold air burned in his lungs. A tear escaped down his cheeks as his bronchia contracted painfully before he managed to even his breathing out again.

"What now?" Sherlock directed the question into the empty park but not even Mycroft had a clever answer to it.

He could confront John with his wish for children but then his lover would only deny that he didn't plan to spend the rest of his life with Sherlock. Maybe John would even believe his own denials. Sherlock just couldn't imagine that John would have misled him on purpose. He might not even have realised how much he wanted to be a father before today. If that was the case then a direct confrontation could even speed up the end of their relationship by reminding John of what he really wanted to have in life. Therefore a confrontation was out of the question.

_"Just scare off every woman that John appears interested in." _Sherlock shook his head at the suggestion. He couldn't do that to John. He had jumped to save the life of his lover before they had even got together. There was no way that he would destroy John's chance of finding true happiness after Sherlock had risked his life for it.

_"Then there is only one thing left for you to do."_

This time Sherlock nodded to the words as he started to plan all the things he wanted to do with John before their time ran out while the sun continued its way across the sky.

OOO

"Where the fuck have you been?"

John was up and out of his chair as soon as Sherlock stepped through the door to their flat. When his lover had left him behind at the crime scene - again - he hadn't thought much of it. Yes, it was annoying to ask Greg for a ride because every cabbie overlooked him but John had had worse. At least this time he hadn't been left standing in the middle of nowhere with not even a squirrel around to ask for directions. Therefore he had neither been overly mad nor worried when he had arrived at Baker Street and Sherlock hadn't been there yet. John had figured that his lover had needed some time to calm down after such a disappointing case and he preferred Sherlock to walk off some steam instead of shooting the walls. So, for the first hour of his lover missing John hadn't thought much of it. He had made some tea and toast and started a crossword puzzle. He had sent the first text message after one and an half hour. A second one half an hour later.

Mrs. Hudson had distracted him with her delicious roast and some gossip for almost an hour before John had decided to call Sherlock. The call had gone straight to voicemail. To say that John had started to worry then had been an understatement. It wasn't that Sherlock hadn't vanished for some time before but ever since they had gotten together, his lover at least took the time to let him know that he was still alive. In his panic John had even called Mycroft who had only reassured him that Sherlock was fine and still in London before hanging up on him. Bastard! So, John had waited. He had brewed endless cups of tea - and only drunk half of them - and he had waited... for nearly eight hours!

John crossed his arms in front of his chest and glared at Sherlock as he shrugged out of his coat and threw it over the couch. A whiff of tobacco caught John's attention and he frowned. "You have smoked."

It wouldn't be such a newsworthy statement if Sherlock hadn't managed to completely abstain from cigarettes for nearly two years. He still used patches but not nearly as often or as many as when they had first met. John's frown deepened as he watched Sherlock's fingers tremble as he retrieved his mobile from the pocket of his trousers. He only hoped that one relapse hadn't led to another one.

"Sherlock," John started carefully as most of his anger was replaced by worry when clear eyes snapped up to meet his. They looked tired. In fact Sherlock himself looked completely drained and John just needed to know what had happened. Because something certainly was the matter with his lover but John couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was. This morning Sherlock had been perfectly happy and relaxed but now he looked almost ready to collapse. It couldn't have been the case from today. Sherlock had been annoyed about the waste of time but...

"I lost track of time." Sherlock's voice came out a rough whisper and John winced in sympathy with his lover's lungs as he cleared his throat. "The cigarettes are still in my coat. You can take them. I don't intend to take up smoking again."

"Good for you as I don't fancy kissing an ashtray."

Sherlock's lips curled up in the weak imitation of a smile at John's words that never reached his eyes.

John unfolded his arms and took a step towards his lover. Up close it became obvious that Sherlock must have spent the last few hours outside. John plucked a leaf from messy curls and almost flinched at how cold his lover's skin felt as he touched Sherlock's cheek. "God, you are freezing."

"I rearranged my Mind Palace and I didn't realise how cold it was."

John raised an eyebrow at that admission. It didn't sound like a lie - he had learned to spot when Sherlock was lying by now - but it also didn't sound like the complete truth. It felt like something was missing. Probably the reason why Sherlock had felt it necessary to work on his Mind Palace while outside.

"I am sorry."

John could only stare dumbfounded at Sherlock as his lover ducked down to press a kiss to the corner of his lips before he vanished in the direction of the bathroom. Sherlock didn't apologize. Not if he hadn't fucked up spectacularly and even then... John was certain that he still hadn't received an apology for the time that Sherlock had tried to drug him at Baskerville.

New worry marred John's face as he made his way over to the kitchen to make more tea. Either Sherlock had sold him as a sex slave for a case or something was terribly wrong. John crossed his fingers for the former as he clicked the kettle on. Hopefully Sherlock would be more willing to talk over a cup of tea after a nice hot shower.

OOO

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Sherlock glared at his reflection in the mirror as he brushed his teeth angrily. Even after a hot shower and the usage of large amounts of shampoo and conditioner he still looked terrible. Even the most unobservant man would be able to tell from the lines on his face and the greyish tint to his skin that something was bothering him and John was far from unobservant.

Sherlock sighed and spit into the sink. Certainly two mugs of tea and something edible were already waiting for Sherlock in the kitchen. With them came the expectation for a conversation. John would want to know what had Sherlock so out of sorts that he had spent almost a whole day in the freezing air. Usually it was heart warming to have John worry and care about him like this. No one else had ever taken such an interest in Sherlock's thoughts and feelings when they hadn't been relevant to a case and Sherlock cherished John's interest in him. Today though he would have liked for John to remain ignorant to his inner turmoil. Sherlock certainly wasn't going to tell his lover that he was in such a terrible state because he had realised that John would leave him in a year or two. It wouldn't do to soil the remaining months of their time together with meaningless promises. Because John would promise Sherlock that he wouldn't leave him and then he would either feel terrible guilty if he broke his promise or he would stick to it and... resent Sherlock for the rest of his life.

A lump lodged in his throat at the mere notion of that outcome and it took Sherlock three minutes of slow breathing to get himself back under control. No, he wouldn't tell John the truth but that also didn't mean that he would lie to him. Sherlock nodded to himself and finally left the bathroom to collect his pyjamas and dressing gown before he wandered into the kitchen. A steaming mug and a plate with toast and slices of cold roast beef were waiting for him as he had expected. His stomach growled in response to the promise of food and Sherlock gave into its demands for once as he collected the plate and mug and wandered into the living-room.

Blue eyes looked up at him from where their owner was seated on the couch. The TV was turned on but the volume was kept low enough to only work as a background noise. So, John intended to allow Sherlock to eat in peace before he was going to ask any questions. At least that was what a low volume on the TV usually indicated in such a situation.

"Don't just stand there like a statue. Sit down." John patted the space next to him and Sherlock obeyed without protest.

He had barely managed to sit down when John knelt down in front of him and forced a hideous pair of green woollen socks onto his feet. Sherlock couldn't remember that he owned a pair like that. Actually he was sure that he didn't. He only ever bought himself socks that fit his numerous suits none of which were of such a colour. And even if he had a green suit the socks wouldn't be...

"Yes, I know all your socks are thin as rice paper and just as functional that's why I took it upon myself to buy some warm ones in your size."

All protests died in Sherlock's throat as John smiled gently at him and then threw a woollen blanket over their legs and slung another one around their shoulders. Effectively enfolding them in a warm cocoon.

"I can't risk that you get sick when I know exactly that I would be the one taking care of you." A gentle hand ruffled his curls and let Sherlock knew that John wasn't being serious. His lover would gladly take care of him if he got sick - he had done so countless times in fact already. Sherlock gulped down a large mouthful of tea before John could notice the pained expression in his eyes. It wouldn't do to worry his lover even more than he already had. Instead Sherlock forced himself to finish his meal and tea completely to meet his body's and John's demands.

"You were hungry," John remarked when Sherlock placed the empty plate and mug on the coffee table.

Sherlock shrugged as he wriggled around on the couch until his head was lying on John's thigh and he was free to hide his face against his lover's belly. It wouldn't only give him an advantage in the conversation that was yet to come but it was also one of Sherlock's favourite positions. He was reminded of why this was the case when John rearranged the blankets to cover Sherlock once more and then started to run his fingers soothingly through his curls.

Sherlock almost purred in pure bliss as skilled fingers massaged his scalp and he all but melted against his lover. Minutes ticked by and as Sherlock relaxed more and more due to John's tender caresses words started to fall from his lips without any need of prompts. "After the case... I felt agitated - annoyed. I needed to calm down and I went for a walk."

John hummed noncommittally but otherwise didn't try to say anything and Sherlock continued. "I started to think and... it just got more. There was so much on my mind and it kept multiplying." Not a lie although Sherlock had no intention of sharing with John what he had been worrying about. "I felt like a laptop with too many opened tabs."

"You were overwhelmed," John murmured and Sherlock was relieved to hear the note of understanding in his voice. It meant that he wouldn't question Sherlock further if he didn't ruin it now.

"Yes," Sherlock nodded against John's belly, "I couldn't think clearly anymore. I bought cigarettes and I smoked and I... I am sorry that I worried you." Sherlock's voice cracked on the last word and John slung his arms around him as best as possible in this position and held him close. "It's alright. You are back and it's all fine. You would tell me if something else was bothering you, right?"

Sherlock's resolve almost broke at the simple question. Everything in him screamed to hold John close and beg him not to leave him for a perfect little family but he somehow managed to suppress this impulse. Instead he pressed his face into John's belly and nodded.

"Yes," Sherlock promised even as he vowed to himself to start with the things on his list as soon as possible.


	2. Dancing

**Author Notes**: As promised the next chapter of this story. Enjoy! :)

** Dancing**

"I am back!" John called as he entered the flat and then almost laughed as he realised how clichéd that sounded. If he added _Honey _or _Sweetheart _to the end of his sentence it might as well be a scene from a movie from the fifties. Only with the slight difference that John wasn't coming home to a loving housewife after a long day at the surgery who awaited him in a pink apron and dinner on the table.

John snorted as the image of Sherlock in an apron flickered through his mind. It wasn't that his lover wouldn't be able to pull it off but... No, the idea was just wrong. Especially as John was always glad when he came home to no smells at all. At least that meant that Sherlock hadn't experimented with ammonia again. In fact, John noted as his gaze flickered through the flat it didn't look like his lover had done any experiments today. There didn't appear to be any new messes in the kitchen or the living-room. There also wasn't any sight of his lover.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes, one minute."

John raised an eyebrow at the reply that came from the direction of the bathroom. He just hoped that Sherlock was merely doing the usual business in there instead of bathing the organs of a pig in hydrochloric acid again. John didn't fancy having to scrub the bathtub yet again.

"Do you want some tea," John asked when the bathroom door clicked open even while he placed two mugs onto the counter and reached for the kettle.

"No thanks. We don't have time for that."

The protest died on John's lips as he turned around and took in his lover's appearance. Sherlock looked... dashing. Absolutely stunning. Beautiful. John felt like his mind short-circuited before it came back online as his eyes drank in his lover. Sherlock had exchanged his usual black suit jacket for an anthracite one that looked like it cost as much as John's complete wardrobe. It was probably tailor-made as well judging from how it hugged Sherlock's form perfectly. Just like the silk button-down shirt and the fine black trousers did.

John barely stopped himself from asking his lover to turn around so that he would get a good look at his behind. If Sherlock's arse looked amazing in his usual trousers then John doubted that he could look at it now without getting instantly aroused. Not that this would usually be a bad thing but Sherlock looked like he was ready to go out. Either that or he had just tried some new clothes one.

John's eyes flickered to his lover's curls. They looked soft and like they had fallen naturally in a perfect order... which of course meant that Sherlock had spent at least half an hour to tame them. So he was definitely going out somewhere otherwise he wouldn't have taken so much effort.

"Do you like what you see?"

The light teasing tone brought a smile to John's lips as he took a step to cross the distance between them and pressed a lingering kiss to Sherlock's lips. He allowed his hands to stroke down Sherlock's sides once before he took a step back least he got too tempted to ask his lover for more.

"You look absolutely stunning." John marvelled as a blush coloured Sherlock's cheeks at the simple truth. It seemed that his lover would never get immune to his compliments and John was certain that he would never tire of telling Sherlock just how amazing he was. "Where are you going?"

God hopefully it wasn't some boring charity gala that Mycroft had forced Sherlock to attend as a favour of some sorts. Sherlock was always in a terrible mood after such events and John would rather not have to deal with a grumpy genius if he had any choice. It never bode well for the wall or the crockery.

"Where are _we _going," Sherlock corrected him with a wink but it still took John a second to realise that his lover was implying that John would accompany him to whatever event he was going to.

"I doubt that I have anything like this." John gestured vaguely at his lover's clothes. Actually he knew that he didn't own a suit like this. Maybe his old jacket - that he never wore - and the trousers he had always worn on dates would do. Somehow John doubted it though. He would look like a charity case himself if he appeared in his outdated clothes next to Sherlock.

"You do. I have hung the suit and shirt onto the wardrobe in our bedroom."

John blinked and then nodded his acceptance. It wasn't the first time that Sherlock had gotten him something to dress and John wasn't going to complain. He had tried to when his lover had gotten him a light blue cashmere jumper for no other reason than that the colour had reminded him of John's eyes and he had since then learned to pick his battles.

"I guess I should get ready then."

Sherlock nodded and John grinned as he hurried off to the bathroom first. "You still haven't told me where we are going though," John called a few minutes later after he had hurried through a shower and shaved his face carefully.

"I have tickets for a dance."

"A dance?" John frowned sceptically at Sherlock who had appeared in the doorway of their bedroom as he shrugged on the blue shirt and started to button it up.

"Yes," a smile spread over Sherlock's features and lit up his eyes as he bounced enthusiastically on his feet, "it's one of the smaller events in London but they will still play a large repertoire of music. Mostly it will be music for standard dances but they might add a cha-cha or a Flamenco."

"Great." John didn't even try to force any enthusiasm into his voice as he an evening of stumbling over his own feet unfolded in front of him. "What is the case?" If he at least got the chance to tackle some posh CEO onto the dance floor then it wouldn't be too terrible.

"There is no case." Some of the light in the blue eyes dimmed as they found his and John stopped in his movement as he was about to reach for his jacket. "Then what are we going to do there?"

It was the wrong thing to ask John realised a second too late as Sherlock's Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed hard. "It's a dance so... we would be dancing. I thought it would be nice... Nevermind! It was a stupid idea." A fake smile tugged Sherlock's lips upwards as the sparkle in his eyes was replaced by a carefully neutral mask. "I should have checked with you before..."

"No, wait!" John held up his hand to stop any more apologizes from forthcoming. If anyone in this room needed to apologize then it was him. John cursed himself inwardly as he took in his lover's slumped shoulders and his downcast eyes. That was his doing. Sherlock had been happy when John had first got home today. And not just happy but as thrilled as if an especially clever serial killer had been let loose in London. He had planned this whole evening - from organizing the tickets to ordering their suits - and had looked forward to it and John had trampled over Sherlock's happy anticipation like the idiot he was. And why?! Because he wasn't particularly fond of dancing and was afraid of making a complete fool of himself. Not good enough a reason to deny his lover to have fun in John's book. Especially not when he had made a much bigger fool of himself for cases already and when Sherlock had been a complete mess only last Sunday. John should be glad that his lover had found something to bring him out of his dark mood instead of acting like a long-suffering husband who was dragged to the opera.

"I never said that we wouldn't go to the dance."

Sherlock merely shook his head at this. "You don't want to go. You don't like dancing."

John shrugged as casually as possible and stepped up to his lover. "But you do." The deduction had only come to John now but he knew that he was right when Sherlock lowered his eyes and gnawed at his lower lip. It was his typical reaction when he felt caught at something and John's heart shattered a little at that. It spoke volumes about Sherlock's past that he was ashamed to admit that he enjoyed dancing. John could only imagine that some of his former boyfriends had reacted badly to the suggestion of going dancing... just like John had.

_"I am such an idiot," _John scolded himself inwardly and then straightened his shoulders. They would go to this damn dance and Sherlock would have the best fucking evening of his life even if John was to hate every minute of it. If he was prepared to give his life for this brilliant man then he could very well dance with him for an evening.

"You will have to show me the basic steps and take the lead if you don't want us to collide with other patrons."

Dark curls moved across Sherlock's forehead as he shook his head. "You don't have to do this, John. I should have known that you wouldn't enjoy a dance and..."

"Will you just stop talking such nonsense." John leaned up on his tiptoes to press a kiss to each corner of a downturned mouth and then smoothed a hand over the silk clad chest. "I won't lie. I am not a huge fan of dancing but as long as I get to spend the evening with you it can't be so bad."

"But," Sherlock made to protest but John interrupted him with a kiss.

"No buts. You have endured a whole evening of watching Bond movies with me and I didn't nearly look half as attractive as you do now." John winked at his lover and was relieved when a tentative smile returned to his lips. "Let me just tie my shoes and we are ready to go, alright?"

"Yes, I will get us a taxi." Some of the light had found its way back into blue eyes and John vowed that he would only stop dancing when Sherlock's smile was as bright as it had been before. Even if his feet had to bleed to achieve this goal.

OOO

John was a terrible dancer. He didn't have an ounce of rhythm in him. He couldn't remember which foot went where and he kept glancing at their feet every five seconds. Sherlock didn't miss how some women - and men - glanced at him with pity as he tried to lead John to a simple waltz. He ignored them. They might have a decent dancing partner but Sherlock doubted that they could shoot a cabbie through two windows or stitch them up in the bathroom. Not that any of them needed someone like this in their lives. They were boring - dull - the whole lot of them. Parading around in their best suits or evening dresses was the highlight of the month to them. It was fascinating that they could stand such mediocre lives without shooting the walls.

_"You know that it's exactly such a life that John wants, don't you?"_

Sherlock flinched at the hateful reminder that echoed through his Mind Palace.

"Sorry, did I step on your foot?"

"No," Sherlock forced a tight smile on his lips, "you are doing fine."

John laughed in disbelief at that. "I am terrible. You couldn't have picked a worse dancer if you had tried," John's shoulders slumped. "I am sorry that I am ruining the evening for you."

"You aren't," Sherlock tried to reassure his lover who only sighed heavily.

"I can't even manage a simple waltz. You were looking forward to this," John gestured to the ballroom and the other couples that moved smoothly across the dance floor, "and now you are stuck with such a terrible partner."

Sherlock opened his mouth to respond to that but he couldn't find any words that would make John feel better. There was no way of sugar-coating that John was one of the worst dancers that Sherlock had ever encountered in his life and yet... Sherlock wouldn't want to be here with anyone else. He had bought the tickets knowing full well that his lover couldn't dance but he had still wanted to share this experience with him. Even when he had only been a small child Sherlock had dreamed of going dancing with his significant other one day to show him off to everyone else. He had held onto this dream even as his peers had made fun of him in university when he had asked his then boyfriend to go dancing with him. When John and he had gotten together Sherlock had vowed to himself that they would go to a dance one day. He had dreamed about showing his lover off to everyone and dancing all night long until they were too exhausted to even walk. Yet in the two years that they had been together Sherlock had never even considered to buy tickets to a dance... until now. He would never forgive himself if John left him without having ever danced with him.

_"Are you sure though that it was such a wise idea to waste a whole evening on this?" _Mycroft smirked down at him from behind his desk in his Mind Palace. _"Shouldn't you have chosen one of the numerous other activities that you want to experience with John before he leaves you instead of wasting it on an experience that neither of you enjoy?"_

"You could ask someone else to dance." John's voice brought Sherlock back to the present and he nodded that they had moved right to the edge of the dance floor and weren't moving anymore. "Actually I am sure that if I just go away to get something to drink, someone will certainly ask you."

Sherlock's eyes flickered to a man in a white designer suit that was eyeing them shamelessly and had to agree with John's assessment. Pale blue eyes followed his gaze and Sherlock more felt than saw how John grew even smaller as he made to draw away from him. "I will just get a whisky then and..."

"No," Sherlock held onto John and drew him closer against his body, "I don't want to dance with anyone but you."

"But I can't dance and you deserve someone who doesn't stumble over their own feet every few seconds."

"I only want to dance with you. No one else." Sherlock felt like a stubborn child as he repeated his words from before. Somehow though they were exactly right as John's eyes softened at the admission.

"I love you," John whispered apropos of nothing and leaned up to press a delicate kiss to Sherlock's lips. Their chests were pressed close together and finally Sherlock got an idea. He returned the kiss even as he rearranged both their arms until their position resembled more a hug than a dancing pose.

"What," John murmured against his lips but Sherlock shushed him.

"Shush! Just keep your eyes closed and follow my lead."

Sherlock was sure that John frowned at the order but he obeyed nonetheless as Sherlock started to move. At first he only swayed slowly to the music to allow John to get used to the feel of it before he led him through the basic steps. A nudge with his leg against John's, the press of Sherlock's hand between his shoulder blades and stirring him with his other hand on John's hips and... it worked. They were dancing... or at least they were moving smoothly across the dance floor without any mishaps.

Sherlock smiled to himself as he moved them towards the centre of the dance floor aware that the other dancers were staring at them. He knew why of course. John and he were dancing much too close together for a standard dance. That was why it had taken him so long to get the idea that they could dance like this - his dancing instructors had all been very strict. It was almost scandalous how they were pressed together from their chests down to their hips and Sherlock was certain that they would have been asked to leave the dance floor if the gathering had been any more elegant. As it was they were left undisturbed as the other couples resumed dancing and the music changed from a waltz to a slow foxtrot.

They managed the change without any trouble and Sherlock allowed himself to close his eyes as well as his body followed the rhythm of the music without him having to think about it. Instead Sherlock focused all his senses on John. The way their bodies moved together in perfect tandem. How John's muscles flexed under Sherlock's hands. The scent of fresh sweat and John's spicy shampoo mingled in his nose and were filtered away in his Mind Palace and every minute of this evening with it. It wasn't how Sherlock had always envisioned this evening but it was perfect in its own way because John was here with him. Sherlock would always cherish the memory of them dancing together even when this evening was years in the past and John no longer in his arms.


	3. Sweet Memories

**Author Notes:** The next chapter for you. Enjoy! :)

**Sweet Memories**

John groaned in protest as sunlight tickled his nose and roused him from a deep sleep. They had forgotten to close the curtains last night and because of that he was woken at such an ungodly hour. Maybe they should invest some money into curtains that closed on their own. Certainly someone had invented something like that and if they hadn't then Mycroft could certainly find someone willing to do it. After all the elder Holmes still owed them for the case that they had solved for him which had also been the reason why they had got to bed so late and...

"It's already seven o`clock and therefore half an hour later than you usually get up to go for work." Sherlock's hoarse voice interrupted his inner complaints. "There are curtains that can be programmed to open and close at certain times but I'm sure they would annoy us very soon. But at least you wouldn't have to ask Mycroft for help."

John peeled one eye open to glance at his lover who lay on his right side facing him. A slow smile curled Sherlock's lips upwards when their gazes connected and John felt his own lips twitch in response. Sherlock looked as sleep rumbled as John felt. His curls were in complete disarray as they spread in every possible direction on the pillow. Sherlock's right cheek wore the imprint of his pillow, sand stuck in the corner of his still half-shut eyes and his lips looked as dry as Sahara dust. And yet John wouldn't exchange that sight for anything in the world. If he were allowed to wake up every morning to Sherlock looking like that then he could one day die a very happy man. Instead of announcing his feelings to his lover - who would only huff at his sentimentality - John snuggled closer to Sherlock until their faces were mere inches apart.

"Good morning to you to, _Sweetie._" John chuckled as Sherlock wrinkled his nose at the endearment and pressed a kiss to his lips. "Did you deduce my very thoughts from just looking at me or have you finally evolved and are able to read minds now?"

"Don't be stupid, John!" An exasperated and yet slightly amused sigh came from Sherlock even as he slung an arm over John's waist and breathed a kiss to his forehead. "It's not possible for an individual to evolve like this which should answer your question: Yes, I deduced what you were thinking."

When Sherlock stopped at that John nudged his shoulder lightly to get him to continue. Whenever John was allowed a glimpse into how the brilliant mind of his lover worked he was unwilling to miss it.

"You were obviously annoyed at being woken up by the sun so early on your free day. Logically you were annoyed that we had forgotten to draw the curtains close and wondered how such a situation could be avoided in the future. As you wouldn't want to hire someone to wait on us you would look for a technological solution and knowing that you don't have the first clue about what's on the market..."

"Thanks very much!"

"... it was an easy deduction to make that you were wondering if someone could invent such a thing."

"Brilliant!" John beamed at his lover and pressed a kiss to his nose. "But how did you know that I was thinking of Mycroft?"

"Whenever you think of my brother a steep line appears on your forehead, right over your left eyebrow."

John snorted even as a finger traced the exact spot on his face gently. "You are making that up. You guessed."

Sherlock shrugged but couldn't hide his grin as he winked at John. "I was still right."

"I can't argue with that."

Their smiles were mirrored on their faces as they lay there just looking at each other and breathing in tandem while the sun rose even higher outside. It appeared that they had a beautiful early spring day ahead of them. Perfect to go outside and... do something. John's mind didn't come up with anything more exciting than going to the park and he sighed inwardly as he wrapped a curl around his index finger. His former partners had been right to tell him that he didn't have any imagination when it came to planning dates. John had always stuck to going out for food - dinner, lunch or breakfast - or to the cinema. Admittedly he had taken Sarah to a Chinese circus but as that evening had ended with a kidnapping John wasn't sure if it counted. Besides the date had been Sherlock's idea.

His gaze focused on his lover's relaxed face - his eyes closed once more - as he leaned into John's caress. No one would believe John if he told them that Sherlock - this slightly mad and absolutely brilliant man - was always the one who planned their dates. And yet it was the truth. They had gone out more often in the last five months than in the two years they had been together before that. A weekend trip to an exclusive spa had been followed by a day at the beach and the invitation to the movie premiere of the new Bond - John had had his autograph framed. And these were only the big things that stuck out. Sherlock had also surprised John with a visit to a Christmas Market, tickets for a rugby match, a match of laser tag at an amusement arcade and... a lot of other fantastic outings. The memory of them on ice-skates flickered through his mind and John allowed himself to recall that day while lazing around in bed a little longer.

_"I didn't even know that they had a rink here." John took in the large space of ice ahead of him. There were a few other couples skating on the rink but otherwise it was empty. No families with children at noon on a workday. John allowed himself a huge grin at that realisation. He didn't mind children but they were a hazard source on skates when they didn't even know how to keep their balance yet. It was much better to be free to skate without having to look out for tiny people that got in your way._

_"Oh, you can even skate to the rink outdoors," John announced happily as he watched some skater vanish through an open connecting door. "Come on, let's..." John turned on his skates to Sherlock and would have pinched himself if he hadn't worn gloves. His lover hung onto the barrier that surrounded the rink for dear life as he tried to keep upright. "You can't skate."_

_"Great deduction, John." Sherlock glared at the ice as if it had personally offended him as he tried to take a step towards John but had to grip the wall again for balance._

_John barely contained his amusement as he skated up next to Sherlock and leaned against the barrier. "You won't get anywhere if you try to _walk _on the ice. You need to skate."_

_"Really? I wouldn't have thought of that," Sherlock snapped before a guilty expression crossed his face. "Sorry, it's my own fault for thinking that it would be easy to learn skating."_

_"So, we have come here today so that you can learn skating?" John had wondered why they were here since Sherlock had decided that they would go to a rink today. Not that John was complaining - he had loved ice-skating since he had been a boy - but the idea had seemed a little strange coming from Sherlock. Though if his lover intended to pick up a new skill it was the perfect explanation as to why they had come here and John was more than willing to teach Sherlock._

_"No, we are here because you enjoy skating but haven't gotten around to go to a rink in the last three years."_

_"Oh." John blinked stupidly at the admission. It wasn't that Sherlock had never planned an outing just because John enjoyed something but... Actually Sherlock had planned a lot of outings that had been for the sole benefit of their enjoyment. Admittedly, John had been sceptical about going to a dance or their visit to a ballet performance but even then he had enjoyed himself immensely. Mostly because he had been there with Sherlock but also because... it hadn't been as bad as he had feared at first. So, where did that lead him? Right Sherlock was taking him on dates which was... atypical to say the least. John frowned. Why hadn't he wondered about this sudden change in their relationship before? The answer was simple because he liked it. Still it was probably wise to find out why his lover thought it suddenly important to take him on dates. With Sherlock there was usually a reason behind everything that John couldn't even hope to guess._

_"It might be better if you went ahead alone and..."_

_"No," John shook his head at Sherlock's idiotic idea, "No one is left behind."_

_Sherlock rolled his eyes at him as John knew he would. "You won't have much fun if you have to prevent me from falling down all the time."_

_"I won't have much fun skating alone, either. Besides we came here to have fun together, right? That's the purpose of all our dates, isn't it?"_

_To any other couple that might sound like a stupid question to ask but John had long since learned that with Sherlock not everything was as it seemed at first glance. He wouldn't put it past his lover that those dates had been part of a social experiment. It wouldn't ruin John's fun if that was the case but he thought it better to know if there was a deeper reason behind Sherlock's sudden need to take them on dates._

_Blue eyes looked up at him and for a second John saw something flicker in their depths but a second later it was gone as Sherlock nodded. "Of course that's the whole purpose of it."_

_"Alright I was just surprised that you suddenly decided to want to go out when it wasn't something you considered before."_

_Sherlock gave him a tight lipped smile but John figured that it had more to do with his difficulties of staying upright than with their conversation. "I always wanted to go out with you but there never seemed to be a good time to go on dates."_

_"But now there is?" John was really curious._

_Sherlock shrugged. "I figured that you can't just wait around for a good time to come along in our line of work. We would both be old and grey by the time we weren't chasing criminals anymore and by then I certainly wouldn't risk ice-skating."_

_Somehow John still felt like there was more to it but Sherlock didn't sound like he was lying. It was probably only because it felt like Sherlock always had an ulterior motive for everything that made it hard for John to believed his lover now. John decided to let it go as and instead enjoy his time on the rink. _

_"Sling your arm around my shoulders," John instructed even as he wound his own arm around his lover's waist._

_Sherlock raised a sceptical eyebrow at him but did as he was told. "We will both fall like this."_

_"No, we won't if you follow my lead."_

_Slowly they moved away from the wall as John taught Sherlock how to move his feet to glide over the ice. _

Of course they fell.

John chuckled at the memory of them tumbling over each other after Sherlock had stumbled over his own feet and John had tried to hold him. Thankfully neither of them had lost any appendages as a result of it and they had both enjoyed the rest of the day without any further injuries.

"You sound happy."

"Great deduction." John chuckled again and rubbed his nose against Sherlock's which brought a smile to his lover's face. "I was just thinking of our day at the ice-rink."

"Ah yes, very happy memories indeed," Sherlock drawled but the way his lips twitched gave him away. "I think I still have a bruise on my backside from that day."

"No, I think that's from last week when you told me to go harder while you..."

"... while I rode you. Yes, I remember." Sherlock coughed quietly. "We could stay in bed and test if your theory about the bruise is correct."

"Or...?" John ignored the almost annoyed twitch his cock gave at the prospect of a whole day in bed with Sherlock. They could do that again when it rained the next time which wouldn't leave them waiting long considering how many rain days London had in March. Today it was beautiful outside and John was almost certain that his lover had some idea on where they could go on a day like this. It didn't mean that they couldn't have sex later, John assured the lower half of his body.

"We could go to the zoo."

"The zoo?" John couldn't remember the last time that he had been to one. He wasn't even sure if he had ever been to the London zoo.

"We don't have to," Sherlock hurried to say. "I just thought it would be nice to see..."

"Yes, let's go," John interrupted his lover before he could tell him that they didn't have to go. By now he had figured out that some of their dates were planned with John's interests in mind and others were things that Sherlock himself enjoyed immensely. In the end they both had enjoyed each outing so far and John didn't see why he should deny his lover a visit to the zoo if he would like to go. It wasn't as if John had any aversion to this particular place.

"I will prepare breakfast and some sandwiches for the day."

Sherlock opened his mouth - probably to argue - but then just nodded. "Mrs. Hudson has baked scones yesterday evening."

"Noted." John pressed one last kiss to his lover's lips before he hurried out to get everything ready for their date.


	4. Of Penguins and Otters

**Author Notes:** The promised date at the zoo. Enjoy the chapter. ^^

**Of Penguins and Otters**

"Do you have a preference for where to go first?" Sherlock glanced sideways at John who was busy with the map of the zoo they had gotten at the entrance.

"It's only half past ten now," Sherlock continued without waiting for his lover's reply, "we will have at least three to four more hours until it will get crowded on a sunny day like this. It would be best if we went to the main attractions first."

"Sounds good to me." John folded the map and pushed it into the backpack that held their sandwiches and drinks. "What are the attractions then?"

"The tigers and lions are always the favourites of most people so we should probably go there first." Sherlock took a step in the direction of the tiger territory but was stopped by a hand on his wrist. "John?"

"You said," John murmured as he slipped his hand down from Sherlock's wrist to intertwine their fingers instead, "that they are the favourites of _most _people. What are yours then?"

Sherlock almost gasped out loud as John's earnest blue eyes met his just as the question registered in his mind. He sometimes forgot just how well John knew him and that he used that knowledge to brighten Sherlock's life instead of ridiculing him like others had done before.

_"You should better get used to having no one understand you, brother mine. Five months of your estimated one to two years are already up. Time is running out. Are you sure that you will manage to work through your list before he leaves?"_

It was only thanks to Sherlock's willpower that he managed to suppress any outward signs of his inner turmoil. Mycroft - or at least the part of his Mind Palace that represented his brother - was right of course. Time was running out and Sherlock knew that he would never manage to do everything he had ever wanted to do with John before it was all over because... he could always think of more that he wanted to experience with his lover. Sherlock had even needed to write his list down on his laptop - in order of priority - because all the ideas kept crowding his Mind Palace until all he could think about was John. And it wasn't even like most of the activities took a lot of planning - other than the surprise waiting in Sussex - but that Sherlock didn't want to only experience them once. He wanted to go to a Christmas Market every year to select silly decorations for their flat with John. He dreamed of taking dancing classes with John until they could dance while looking into each other's eyes. He longed for endless summer nights spent sitting on a field and gazing at the stars while they both grew older and greyer with each passing year and...

"Sherlock? Stay with me."

John's voice pushed the dark thoughts away and brought Sherlock back to the present. A present in which they were still together and John was gazing up at him with a mixture of worry, amusement and love on his face. Sherlock didn't want to spoil such a time with worries about the future. Not when they still had some time left together and maybe - just maybe - John wouldn't leave him at all. He hadn't been looking for a woman as far as Sherlock had noticed and therefore...

_"Stop fooling yourself, Sherlock. Just accept that you will never be enough for the good Doctor and let's move on."_

"Yes, let's move on."

"Sherlock?"

"I meant let's go." Sherlock shook his head to drive away the lingering sense of unease at his brother's words and led John to the left - further away from the tiger territory.

"And where are we going now?" John asked but didn't try to stop as he squeezed Sherlock's hand and followed him.

"The _Penglings_."

Sherlock bit down on his tongue as John snickered quietly next to him. He had never managed to pronounce the name of his favourite animal correctly. A psychologist would probably tell him that he had some blockade in his head due to bullying in his childhood that prevented him from getting the pronunciation right. Sherlock rather suspected that Mummy was to blame as she had always encouraged him to pronounce the word how he wanted because she had thought it cute. Whatever the reason, it was annoying.

"The _Pengwings_. I mean..."

A suppressed laugh sounded next to him and Sherlock sighed as he stopped on their way and turned so that John was forced to look at him. Sherlock expected to have John laughing at him but instead of glee he found only adoration in the blue depths of his lover.

"I am sorry," John managed to get out as his laughers ebbed away but a huge smile remained on his face, "I wasn't laughing at you. It's just... you are like a walking paradox. You can pronounce the most complicated technical terms and yet..."

"I can't even say _Peng..._ the name of my favourite animal."

"No, you say it just better than anyone else." John's eyes were huge and soft before they closed as he leaned up and kissed Sherlock. He kissed him in brought daylight, in the middle of the London Zoo and it took Sherlock's mind a second to process this before he was able to kiss back.

"Now let's go and see these fancy birds of yours," John whispered against his lips and left Sherlock stunned enough that he allowed his lover to lead the way until his mind caught up with him.

"_Fancy_ birds?"

"Of course, they wear a tuxedo after all." John winked at him and Sherlock laughed despite the terrible joke as they finally made it to _Penguin Beach _and right in time for the feeding as well. Sherlock couldn't have planned a better start to their date if he had wanted to as he alternated between watching the penguins diving for fish and John enjoying their antics. They were both fascinating.

OOO

"They look like you!"

John's exclamation was met by a snort from Sherlock. "Don't be ridiculous, John. There is no way that they could look like me!"

John glanced sideways at his lover who had his hands placed on the fence that surrounded the compound and was all but pouting at John's comparison. God, but Sherlock was adorable like that. If they weren't in a public place John would have grabbed him and snogged him to within an inch of his life. Seeing as such an action was out of the question John instead opted to continue teasing his lover in the hopes of deepening his pout.

"Of course, they are. Look," John pointed at one of the animals, "I am sure this one is looking through his Mind Palace right now."

"Really, John?" Sherlock glanced at the animal as if it had personally offended him. "How in the world did you get it into your head that I resemble an Oriental small-clawed otter?!"

"I don't know it's just," John started and then broke out in giggles as the otter that had reclined on a stone with its paws pressed together under its chin turned its head and all but glared at them. "See! Just like you when something interrupts your thinking."

"Glad to be a source of amusement to you."

John turned at Sherlock's miffed words, ready to apologize in case he had taken the joke too far when he noticed the sparkle in his eyes. It was as if Sherlock was laughing with his eyes alone while the rest of his face was set in a controlled expression. God help him but John wanted to see that look every day for the rest of his life. The thought didn't shock him as it once would have done. It was a simple enough fact: He, John H. Watson wanted to spend the rest of his days being dazzled by Sherlock's brilliance and annoyed by his ignorance. If he had had as much as a toy ring on him John would have dropped to one knee right then and there. As it was John could only hold onto the idea for another day as he kept staring at Sherlock in wonderment. He had never thought about marriage in regards to himself but in just one second it had become perfectly clear to him that he wanted this with Sherlock. And by _this _John didn't only mean an exchange of rings and some vows in front of their family and friends. No, John especially envisioned what came after the wedding. Years and years - hopefully decades - spent together until they were only known as the old gay married couple to their neighbours anymore.

"What is it?"

John blinked himself back to reality and met Sherlock's inquiring gaze. "Nothing." He couldn't very well share these fantasies with his lover right now. Not when the idea had just been born in his mind and John didn't have the faintest idea how to go about it.

"Nothing made your expression change from adoration to longing and then to determination?"

The disbelieving tone went well with Sherlock's raised eyebrows and John could have sworn that the otters were looking at him just as sceptically. John searched his brain frantically for an explanation why he would have looked like that and jumped at the first image that came to his mind. "Children."

"What?" Something complicated passed over Sherlock's face but John was too busy spinning his little white lie to analyze it further.

"The children at the monkey exhibit, they were adorable and I... would have liked to have had such a family when I had been their age. Parents that went with Harry and I to the zoo instead of Dad drinking himself to death and Mum... well." John shut his mouth with a click and scratched his neck nervously as he looked up at Sherlock.

His lover opened his mouth as if to question him further or to call him out on his lie - John had always been terrible at bending the truth - but he shut it again and merely nodded. "Perfectly understandable."

John blinked in confusion. It felt like something had shifted between them. As if the lightheartedness from only minutes ago had just vanished. Had he done something wrong? Had his thoughtless remark about children reminded Sherlock of some kids that had bullied him during his own childhood? Or did he feel sorry for John that he hadn't had an intact family?

Before John could formulate more explanations for the sudden change Sherlock swept up close to him and a second later John found himself responding to one of the most desperate kisses he had ever experienced. Strong hands clung to his back and head as Sherlock's mouth pressed against John's as if he needed him to breathe. John still didn't know what had brought this on but he led the kiss continue all the while rubbing slow circles on Sherlock's back and holding him as close as possible. After some time - John couldn't say if minutes or hours had passed - the kiss turned from desperate to hopeful longing and then ended with gentle peck to John's lips.

"Sorry," Sherlock whispered as he leaned his forehead against John's. "I just needed that."

"It's alright." John continued the soothing caress on Sherlock's back. He wanted to ask what had brought this on but he felt like it would be better left alone for now. It wasn't the first time that Sherlock had clung to him like this and John had long since given up on understanding how the brilliant mind of his lover worked. As long as he could help him like this he was grateful.

"Home?" John murmured as Sherlock straightened back up and held out his hand for his lover to take.

"Yes, please."

They left the otters behind as they walked towards the exit of the zoo. John didn't turn back to compare them to his lover again but instead looked for something else to say to break the strange mood that had come over them. It was easy to find in the end. "This day was lovely. Thank you, Sherlock. I had never thought it possible to have so much fun at the zoo."

The spark returned to blue eyes at John's honest words. And although it wasn't as bright as before it was still there and that counted for something. A small smile even curled up Sherlock's lips as they turned towards Baker Street. "You're welcome, John."


	5. Controlled by Fear

**Author Notes**: Nothing to say on my part so just enjoy the chapter. ;)

** Controlled by Fear**

John was acting strange lately. Sherlock frowned at the ceiling as he lay on the couch and tried to point his finger on exactly what had made him think that. The thought had come out of nowhere into his Mind Palace and wouldn't leave until he had analysed the reasons for its appearance.

Sherlock pressed his fingers together as he went through every interaction with his lover during the last two months. He couldn't find anything out of the ordinary at first. John was still working at the surgery and complaining about the dull work. He also brewed tea at least three times a day for Sherlock and himself and he never missed an episode of Doctor Who. Nothing had changed there.

_"You might want to look a little more closely, brother dear."_

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the obvious advice but did as Mycroft had told him. At first nothing came to him but when he looked as closely as possible at John's daily interactions with him he finally noticed... _something. _John was staring more often than usual at Sherlock with a pensive expression on his face.

"Really, that's it?" Sherlock wondered aloud and was met with a sigh from his brother inside his Mind Palace.

_"I don't know how you became a detective when you stop to look after discovering the first evidence."_

"Evidence for what?"

_"You of course noticed that you haven't gotten your hands on your doctor's phone for the last two months, right?! He doesn't complain when you use his laptop but he keeps his phone away from you. What can we deduce from that?"_

"There is something on his phone that he doesn't want me to see." Sherlock blinked slowly up at the ceiling as he processed this new information. It could be that John didn't want Sherlock to see his browser history but he couldn't think of a reason why. John knew that Sherlock didn't mind him watching porn and that he was willing to try new positions or sex toys if something appealed to his lover. Therefore John hiding his phone hadn't anything to do with his browser history but more likely with the messages and calls on his phone. So he was in contact with someone that Sherlock wasn't supposed to know about. But who...?

_"Please, brother dear don't act this obtuse. I know you were always a bit slow but even you should be able to solve this puzzle. Just think of how nervous John was when he came home from work a week ago."_

Sherlock blinked in confusion before the scene started to replay in his Mind Palace.

_Steps on the staircase._

_Sherlock looked up from his experiment to check the time. It was seven o`clock. John was about an hour later than usual when he got back from work. He glanced at his phone but there were no messages from his lover that informed him of said delay. Not that Sherlock would have noticed them anyway as he was busy with checking the growing rate of various fungi. Still, it was a little odd that John hadn't written him. Then again he had probably gotten stuck in the Tube and John hated to get his phone out during rush hour because he feared that he would lose it amongst so many people. Sherlock was about to dismiss John's lateness and go back to his experiment when his lover entered the flat._

_"Welcome back," Sherlock called to him as he leaned back in his chair to get a good look at his lover in the living-room. He frowned at the way John jumped at his greeting._

_"God, Sherlock! You will give me a heart attack on one of these days. I didn't know you were home. What happened to your plans to go to the morgue?"_

_"Molly was busy." Sherlock tilted his chair back to keep John in his line of sight as his lover was almost completely hidden by the coat rack now. "Do you need help?"_

_It looked like John was fumbling around with his jacket and Sherlock didn't want to hear him complain about a torn seam because he couldn't get the zipper unfastened or something equally trite._

_"No, it's fine. Don't get up." John's voice sounded almost panicked. "Just some stupid coins that got stuck in the pocket." A nervous laugh and then a triumphant cry announced John's victory before he hurried upstairs to his old room... with the jacket._

_"John," Sherlock started to ask as his lover came back down but then he noticed an interesting pattern one of his fungi was forming and never finished the question._

"Stupid!" Sherlock scolded himself loudly. He had dismissed and forgotten important evidence because of an unimportant experiment. The fungus hadn't even done anything special as he had noticed later. It had just been contaminated with another sample. Therefore Sherlock had missed something about his lover for nothing. Something important.

He bit down on his lower lip as the evidence amounted to a simple explanation: John had met someone. That was why he was making sure that Sherlock didn't read his messages and why he had hidden his jacket away from him. The hint of a strange perfume would have been enough for Sherlock to deduce that John had...No! Sherlock grimaced in disgust at himself for even thinking like that. John wouldn't cheat on him and just because he had acted secretly once didn't mean that anything was up.

_"Didn't you notice how often John went for a walk in the last two weeks?" _Sherlock could almost feel his brother rolling his eyes at him. _"I agree with you though that John wouldn't cheat on you but that doesn't mean that he hasn't met someone he wants to exchange you for. He has probably met her a few times by now and has fooled himself into believing that it isn't cheating as long as they don't do anything physically. Tough luck, brother mine seems like you won't get to finish your little list."_

A shaky breath escaped past Sherlock's lips as he was reminded of the surprise he had worked on for months. The last step had been finalised only yesterday and Sherlock was now the proud owner of a cottage in Sussex. He had planned for it to be a vacation home for the time being and a home to retire to when he got too old to chase criminals any longer. Sherlock had been aware that John would never live with him there but he had hoped that they would spend a few weekends there before John left him. Sherlock would have loved to have a few memories of his lover when he lived in the cottage on his own but that had obviously been a stupid dream.

The cottage needed some renovations before they could even think of spending the night there and even with Mycroft's help it would take at least a month until it was ready. A month... Sherlock doubted that John would stay this long when he had already met someone new. If they had met two months ago and they were getting along well then John wouldn't want to wait much longer to take their relationship to the next level. Of course, he would break up with Sherlock first and give him a speech along the lines of _it's me not you _before anything else happened between him and... his girlfriend.

Sherlock clenched his hands on his chest as a sudden surge of hate swept through him for the faceless woman that had stolen John away from him. It was easier to imagine how to kill her slowly than to focus on the hot burning pain in his chest. He had believed that he was prepared for the day that John would leave him but it still felt as if someone was ripping out his heart piece by piece. Sherlock bit down hard on his lower lip to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall. He wouldn't cry. Not now when he still had John.

_"Probably not for much longer," _Mycroft taunted him in his Mind Palace, _"John told you that he had to take care of some things in the city tomorrow. What do you think does that mean?"_

Even Anderson would have been able to piece this information together Sherlock thought bitterly. John was going to meet his future girlfriend and make sure that they were on the same page and then... he would come home to break up with Sherlock. Panic grabbed Sherlock and he almost fell from the couch in his haste to get up and check the time. It was a quarter to six. This meant two things: John would be home in about twenty minutes and... they had probably less than twenty-four hours left as a couple.

Sherlock could barely control the tremor in his hands as he sat down in his armchair and forced himself to remain calm. He could break down tomorrow but for now he needed to focus on what he still wanted to do with John if he was only allowed to keep him for such a short amount of time. The decision wasn't hard to make.

OOO

"No, thank you I don't need help with the shopping," John spoke in the general direction of his lover who sat motionless in his armchair with his laptop balanced on his legs. He didn't even look up in his direction as John shuffled to the kitchen with two heavy bags and John sighed heavily as he sat the groceries down on the counter. He loved Sherlock deeply but sometimes he wished that he would just once help him with the shopping. Especially after John had just survived another long and boring day at the surgery. Then again, John mused as he unpacked the shopping into the fridge and cupboards he had never made it clear to Sherlock that his help was wanted with this things so it was partly his fault as well. He probably should sit his lover down one of these days and tell him that he needed to do part of the household chores as well if John didn't want to be the one doing everything by himself in their marriage.

Marriage!

John grinned to himself as he remembered the rings that were packed in together with his gun up in his room. It had taken him ages to think of a good hiding place where Sherlock wouldn't find them and in the end he had decided that they would be safe with his gun. After all his lover already knew where it was so its box didn't hold any mystery to him anymore. And since Sherlock had agreed not to retrieve John's gun without permission - and kept to his promise for over a year now - it really was the best hiding place in the whole flat. John only hoped that he would manage to retrieve the rings tomorrow to bring them to a jeweller to get them engraved. It had taken him weeks to find someone who's style he liked. His search had also been hindered because he had only been able to use his phone to look online as he had been afraid that Sherlock would check the browser history on his laptop. It was a small miracle that John had managed to keep his phone out of Sherlock's hands for so long. He wouldn't have managed to hide his laptop from him without making his lover suspicious.

So far John was sure that Sherlock hadn't guessed on John's intentions. Therefore it would hopefully be a happy surprise when John presented the rings to him in about a week after they had been engraved. He had already made reservations at Angelo's for the special occasion. They had had their - sort of - first date thereafter all and John also knew that Angelo would never forgive him if he proposed anywhere else.

John chuckled quietly and then sighed a second later when he noticed that he had to reorganise part of the fridge to fit everything in it. Really, was it too much to ask of Sherlock to arrange his body parts in such a way that there was still enough space left for actual food?!

"John?"

"What?!"

The word came out sharper than intended as he turned to Sherlock who stood in the doorway of the kitchen and all but flinched at his tone. Guilt settled in the pit of his stomach as Sherlock hunched his shoulders and dropped his gaze to the floor. "Nevermind. You had a stressful day. I won't impose on you."

Momentarily John was stunned into absolute stillness as he stood with a box of human eyes in one hand and a bottle of milk in the other while he stared at Sherlock. He couldn't remember ever having seen him act so..._ meekly._ At least not at home. He had certainly faked the sentiment for a case before but even then it hadn't seemed so real.

_"Because it's real this time, you idiot," _John realised even if he didn't know what had brought this on. He doubted that he could even guess on it if he tried. _"Then don't guess, Watson!"_

"Right," John murmured to himself and all but pushed the milk and eyes into the fridge before he followed after Sherlock who had walked back into the living-room and sat hunched in his armchair with his arms wrapped around his legs.

"Hi," John whispered gently as if he was talking to a spooked animal and perched himself on the armrest of the chair, "I am sorry that I snapped at you like that."

"It's fine," Sherlock mumbled into his chest and John sighed fondly as he draped an arm over his lover's shoulder. Sherlock didn't shy away from the contact and John counted this as a small victory although he still didn't know what was going on with his lover.

"It's not fine if it gets to you like this. You wanted something from me and I snapped at you. That wasn't right and I am sorry." John waited for Sherlock to say something to his little speech but his lover merely nodded in acceptance.

From this close John noted just how tired Sherlock looked. His face looked pale and his eyes were bloodshot. If John hadn't known better he would have assumed that Sherlock was working on an especially taxing case but he knew for a fact that his lover didn't have anything on at the moment. If Sherlock had been working for two days straight then John wouldn't be so worried. At least then there would be a logical explanation for his exhaustion and his atypical behaviour.

"Did something happen?" John carded his fingers gently through dark curls and almost sighed aloud in relief when his lover leaned back into the contact. Seconds and then minutes ticked by without a reply though and John was about to ask again when Sherlock finally spoke.

"Would you please make love to me?" Deep blue eyes looked up at him with a mixture of hope and pleading and John felt at a loss for words.

This wasn't an answer to his question and in fact it worried him even more. Not because Sherlock never initiated sex or asked for it - he did - but because of how the question was worded. It sounded like he was begging for it and combined with everything else John felt completely wrong footed. Something was definitely wrong. Very wrong and he needed to figure out what it was before something bad happened. _"Like the Fall," _his mind reminded him helpfully as it pointed to another time when Sherlock had acted strangely.

"Sherlock," John started not sure what he wanted to ask but certain that they needed to talk about whatever was bothering him when Sherlock interrupted him. "I just want to feel close to you, John. Please, I... have felt down the whole day and I need to feel you."

There was a world of pain in these blue eyes as they looked up at him and John felt himself nod his consent before he could think about it twice. He had often enough seen his lover in one of his dark moods and if this was one of them then John should be grateful that Sherlock had come to him for comfort instead of... finding other means.

_"I don't think that's a good idea. You should talk first."_

John ignored the annoying voice of reason in his mind as he leaned down to kiss Sherlock gently. They would talk when Sherlock didn't look like he was on the verge of crying anymore. If John could help him to feel a little better by making love to him then he would be damned if he didn't do it.

"Come to bed with me, love," John whispered in between kisses and took Sherlock's hand to lead him to their bedroom.


	6. Touched with Love

**Author Notes**: This chapter contains smut and lots of feelings.^^ You have been warned. ;)

** Touched with Love**

Sherlock glanced down at the hand that John was holding in his own. It felt strange to be led into their bedroom like this. Usually if one of them had initiated something sexual in the living-room or the kitchen they stumbled into the bedroom while kissing like crazy - if they even managed to get there at all. This time felt vastly different from their passionate encounters and even from their more tender love making.

_"Because it's likely to be the last time that you will ever experience it." _Sherlock flinched at the hateful reminder and felt John's worried gaze on him a second later.

"Are you alright?" A warm hand stroked his cheek and Sherlock leaned into the contact. "We don't have to have sex. We can just lie down and cuddle."

"No." Sherlock was relieved that his voice didn't sound as desperate as he felt as he forced a reassuring smile on his lips. "I need this... I need you."

Light eyes turned incredible soft as their owner led Sherlock's hand to his mouth and breathed a kiss onto it. The gesture should have been stupid but somehow it felt right. Just as right as John's lips felt on his own a second later. Sherlock slung his arms around his lover and drew him as close as possible as he moved his lips against John's. The unique taste of John hit his senses as their kiss deepened and their tongues came into the play. He tasted of a combination of Earl Grey, milk, chocolate biscuits and something that was solemnly John.

Sherlock wasn't sure if he had made some sound or if John's neck had just grown stiff from the awkward angle it was held in but his love withdrew after a last peck to his lips. "Let's get undressed and get into bed."

Sherlock nodded his assent but stood absolutely motionless as he watched John take off first his shirt and vest and then kick off his shoes and start on his trousers. He couldn't remember how often he had watched his lover undress but today he still filtered every motion away to be stored in his Mind Palace. The way John hopped around on one leg as he tried to get out of his trousers and take his socks off at the same time would be forever burnt into Sherlock's memory. It was only when John met his gaze with only his pants still left on that Sherlock remembered that he needed to undress as well. It should have been easy with only his dressing gown and pyjamas on but somehow Sherlock managed to get tangled up in the sleeve of his dressing gown as he tried to shrug it off.

"Here, let me." John chuckled and then skilled fingers touched his shoulders and freed Sherlock from the annoying article of clothing. The fingers didn't leave afterwards instead they lifted the hem of Sherlock's shirt and drew it over his head. Warm hands then found his chest and gently stirred him back until his knees hit the edge of the bed and Sherlock sat down.

"Lift up a little." Sherlock didn't question the request and allowed John to take off his trousers and pants in one go.

"Beautiful," John whispered as he crouched down between his spread legs and Sherlock couldn't help but blush at the compliment. No matter how often John told him...

_"He won't tell you anymore once..."_

With an immense effort Sherlock pushed the annoying voice of his brother away from the forefront of his mind and locked him into the dungeon of his Mind Palace. He wouldn't allow this part of himself to ruin the night for him.

"What do you want?" John rubbed his cheek against his inner thigh and goose bumps rose all over Sherlock's body as warm breath brushed against his sensitive skin. The correct answer to this question would be _everything_. Seeing as this wasn't possible in just one night Sherlock decided on the next best answer: "You."

A low chuckle echoed from between his legs and mirth was mirrored in John's eyes as he looked up at him. "That doesn't reduce the options." Warm fingers traced circles on Sherlock's thighs before they wandered further down and ran through his pubic hair. His cock that had hung barely interested until then twitched at the sensation.

"I... want you in me." Sherlock ran a hand through John's short hair. "And I want to taste you."

An amused eyebrow rose at that. "And here I thought you would say that you want me to taste you." John licked his lips knowingly as he glanced down at Sherlock's cock and then back up at his eyes.

"I... maybe a little." Sherlock couldn't find it in him to reject a blowjob from John.

"Just a little then," John agreed with a grin in his voice and took Sherlock's cock in hand before he licked a wet stripe from the base to the tip of it. Sherlock felt his blood rush southwards as John repeated the motion numerous times. When he finally closed his lips around him Sherlock's cock was almost completely hard and yearning for more friction.

A satisfied groan fell from his lips as John started to move his head up and down on his cock. Sherlock's eyes fell close as the fingers of one stroked behind his balls just when John added more suction to the equation as well. It was hard to force them back open again but Sherlock didn't want to miss one second of this experience. He allowed one of his hands to fall on John's head to card his fingers through soft strands of hair while he traced the lines of his lover's face with his other hand. He stroked over John's hollowed cheek and the knowledge that his lover was holding his cock in his mouth sent even more warmth between his legs.

"John!" Sherlock didn't know if he was asking his lover to stop or to continue as his cock throbbed insistently with every movement of warm lips on him.

John took the decision from him as he let go of Sherlock and leaned up to kiss him deeply. Sherlock moaned into the kiss as he tasted himself on John's lips. He chased the taste with his tongue before he let go of John's mouth.

"Lay back on the bed," he whispered against his lover's skin and John did as he was asked.

Sherlock's heart beat painfully against its ribcage as he took in the sight of his lover spread out before him. God, John was a piece of art. His eyes wandered from the sand blonde messy hair over his kiss swollen lips and the sparse hair on his chest to his soft belly and the black pants that hid a sizable bulge.

The pants had to go!

John lifted his hips without prompting and Sherlock stripped the fabric off as fast as possible then he sat back on his heels and just looked. No matter how often he saw John completely naked it always felt like a revelation of the sweetest kind. John's cock twitched and filled out even more as Sherlock's gaze stayed fixed on it. Sherlock usually wasn't one to sing choruses of praise about the cock of his lover but he couldn't deny that the sight of John's erection aroused him even further. And to think that he was going to taste and then feel it inside him later. It took a deep breath to get Sherlock's heart rate back under control as all the blood in his body appeared to rush between his legs at the mere thought of what was yet to come.

"Come here." John's voice urged Sherlock to cover his lover with his body and find his lips in a passionate kiss.

John fit perfectly underneath him and Sherlock enjoyed the feeling of lying completely on top of him, covering every part of John with his own body. He slowed the kiss down and moved his mouth from soft lips over the stubble on John's chin to his neck. There he let his lips linger motionless for a few heartbeats as he only concentrated on the rise and fall of John's chest and how it pushed against his own in the process. Sherlock could have spent hours just breathing in tandem with his lover... if it hadn't been for both their insistent erections. The only warning Sherlock gave his lover was a puff of breath against sensitive skin before he closed his lips over a part of skin on his neck.

John groaned and his left hand found its way into his curls as Sherlock nipped, licked and sucked at the soft skin. He knew just how much John enjoyed attention paid to this particular area of his body and Sherlock took his time as he covered every part of John's neck with kisses before he moved to his chest. John didn't enjoy his nipples being played with and therefore Sherlock only placed a kiss on each puckered nipple before he moved further down. A surprised laugh sounded from John when Sherlock dipped his tongue into his navel. Chuckling quietly Sherlock repeated the action until John was gasping for breath between laughers.

"Sherlock," John protested when he had got his breath back and Sherlock forewent his lover's cock in favour of kissing his thighs. Sherlock ignored both the verbal protest and how John pushed his hips forwards as he licked and nipped his way all the way to his knees. He didn't dare go further than that as the same action had earned him a kick to his chin once. Who would have thought that John was ticklish at his calves?

"Sherlock, I swear to God... Ah, yes!"

His own moan sounded almost as satisfied as his lover's as Sherlock swallowed his cock down as far as possible and started to massage his balls at the same time. Spit trickled down from between his lips and slickened the base of John's length where he moved his hand in the same rhythm as he popped his head up and down. The salty, bitter taste of pre-come hit his senses as he flickered his tongue over the head of the cock and Sherlock hummed in contentment. The knowledge that he could bring John pleasure like this sent jolts of heat into his loins and urged him on even more.

"Sherlock," John's breathy voice stilled his movements but he didn't let go just yet, "if you want to... I am going to come soon if you don't... stop."

With a small, disappointed sigh Sherlock withdrew his mouth from John's cock. He would have loved to finish his lover off with a blowjob and swallow his come but his desire to feel John inside him was even stronger.

"Come here."

Sherlock sunk down next to John on the mattress. They both turned onto their sides to face each other and Sherlock's heart lurched in his chest at the look of pure adoration mirrored in light eyes.

"You are so beautiful, love." Soft lips pressed a kiss to Sherlock's forehead then his cheeks, his nose and at last to his lips. Sherlock slung his arms around John's shoulders and caught his lips to deepen the kiss as he manoeuvred his lover on top of him. It was either that or giving in to the tears that had gathered in his eyes at John's words.

John's weight settled comfortably on top of Sherlock. Their cocks rubbed together as John shifted a little on him to deepen the kiss and Sherlock wished that this would never end. That they could stay like this forever. That there was no reason to let go of John but that instead he was allowed to hold onto him till the end of days. Of course, this wasn't possible and therefore Sherlock didn't protest as John broke their kiss and leaned over to retrieve the lube from the drawer of his nightstand.

"Like this?" John asked with reference to their position as he slicked his cock and Sherlock nodded. He wanted to look at his lover when they made love and to feel John's weight on top of him at the same time.

John braced himself on one arm as he led his cock between Sherlock's legs with his other hand. There was pressure and a slight burn between his cheeks and then John was slipping all the way into him. They both sighed in satisfaction as John settled fully inside him.

"You feel so good." John's voice was filled with awe as he met Sherlock's gaze before he leaned down and in for a kiss.

Sherlock slung his arms around John's back as their lips met passionately and John started to move inside him. He began with deep, slow thrusts that made Sherlock's toes curl and his own cock throb between them. John's belly brushed against his erection with every slow movement but it wasn't enough for Sherlock to come. It stimulated his nerve endings and made him long for more and hope that this sweet torture would continue for hours at the same time. There was no way to estimate how long it took in reality but Sherlock found he didn't mind the least when John sat back a little and put both of Sherlock's legs over his shoulders before he continued to thrust.

"Oh God!" Sherlock breathed without even knowing what he was referring to. It could be either the cock of his lover that pushed much deeper into him in this position and made Sherlock long for even more. Or the sight of John with his legs thrown over his shoulders and thrusting into Sherlock with abandon while sweat was running down his chest as his muscles flexed in time with his thrusts. Or... it was neither of this but the look in John's eyes when he met Sherlock's gaze. The pure lust and passion coupled with a mixture of adoration, wonder, love and care in these deep seas was almost Sherlock's undoing. Tears welled up in his eyes as the realisation that he would never see this look directed at him hit him suddenly. He squeezed them shut before his lover could notice and held up his arms for John to settle into them. It felt good to have John thrust into him from this angle but Sherlock needed to feel even closer to him. Everything in him screamed to hug John to his own body and thankfully this wish was granted.

A relieved sigh fell from Sherlock's lips as John put his legs back down and laid down on top of him so that their chests were touching. Sherlock slung his arms around his back and hid his face in the crook of John's neck. The salty taste of sweat hit his tongue as Sherlock pressed his lips to the soft skin right under John's ear.

"Perfect... so perfect," John gasped in between thrusts and Sherlock allowed a few tears to fall as John cradled him close with one arm under his shoulder blade. John's other arm sneaked between their bodies and grabbed Sherlock's cock to jerk him off in time with his thrusts.

An odd mixture of pleasure and pain surged through Sherlock's body as he continued to cling to John and move against him. Pleasure from the combined sensations of a cock in his arse, a hand on his erection and the overall knowledge that he was with John. Pain from the way his chest constricted at the knowledge that he would never experience this again. For a few seconds - or maybe minutes - everything tumbled together through his mind without giving Sherlock the chance to even guess which feeling was dominating. It felt like falling and flying at the same time until John's space increased and Sherlock was certain that he had spurted wings.

Pleasure clouded his mind and pushed every other feeling away as Sherlock's orgasm ripped through him and tore a hoarse scream from his lips. He barely registered John's frantic movements in him before he stilled above him and came in Sherlock.

For some time the only sounds in the room were their gasping breaths as both their bodies calmed down. Sherlock's mind only came back online when John pulled out of him and collapsed next to him on the bed with a satisfied sigh. He turned his head towards his lover who met his gaze with a lazy smile.

"You alright?"

Sherlock wanted to nod. He wanted to assure John that he was fine and that he didn't have to worry about him but instead Sherlock just buried himself against his side and breathed him in. This unique mixture of sweat, sex and pheromones mixed in with John's own scent was like a balm to Sherlock's nerves as he tried desperately to keep himself together. It had sounded like a good idea at first to have sex with John before he certainly left him but now... Sherlock felt terrible. He didn't want to let John go to live with someone else. Not that Sherlock had much of a choice in this regard but he couldn't help how he felt. So when John moved to get up from the bed the words fell from Sherlock's lips without his permission: "Don't leave!"


	7. Overdue Conversations

**Author Notes: **This is the second to last chapter of this story. After this one there is only a short epilogue left which I will post next Friday. Enjoy this chapter. :)

**Overdue Conversations**

John froze at Sherlock's plea as he was about to get up from bed. He glanced down at the shock of hair where Sherlock kept his face hidden in the pillow and stroked the messed up curls gently.

"I will just go to the bathroom and then get us something for dinner. I thought some sandwiches and your favourite biscuits. I will bring them here and we can eat in bed and cuddle some more, alright?"

Sherlock didn't reply but the hand that had held onto John's arm dropped to the mattress and John took this as agreement as he got up.

"I won't be long," he promised as he threw Sherlock's dressing gown over and hurried to the bathroom.

John used the toilet and cleaned himself up with a wet flannel before his eyes met his reflection in the mirror and he frowned. Something was wrong. He had had the same feeling numerous times over the last few months but today it had intensified. Sherlock's desperate plea for John to stay was only the latest piece of a puzzle John didn't know he wanted to see solved. They certainly needed to talk. Maybe it was nothing and John was just making mountains out of molehills but something told him that this wasn't the case.

"Dinner first!" John decided and straightened to his full height before he marched into the kitchen. The kettle was switched on right away and John decided to make some simple ham and cheese sandwiches to go with the tea. He had just put the finishing touches to their plate and waited for the tea to be brewed when a desperate ping from the living-room announced that the battery of Sherlock's laptop was about to die.

John sighed quietly and moved to safe whatever valuable data Sherlock had on his laptop to prevent an epic sulk if he hadn't saved his findings. When John connected the device to the charging cable its screen flickered back on and dinner was forgotten as he took a look at the open document. He usually didn't snoop through Sherlock's things - like his lover did - but the title of the paper had caught his attention.

_Activities to do with John before it's too late_

Too late for what? John frowned as he read through Sherlock's list. The activities on top of it had a check next to them and John remembered all of them. There was no way he would ever forget the ice-skating or their visit to a dance. It made sense that Sherlock had planned all these dates so carefully and John wouldn't have thought much of it if it hadn't been for the confusing headline. Because certainly they could still go to the zoo when they were old and grey, right?! Hell even if one of them were to get seriously injured and handicapped thanks to an accident they could do most of these things. He scrolled further down the list until he came to one point on the list that included lots of subitems.

_-Cottage:_

_-Bought (check)_

_-Specialists hired for renovations (check)_

_-Renovations to be finished in a month_

It wasn't the revelation that Sherlock had bought a cottage that shocked John the most but the little footnote at the end of the page: _Not enough time left to visit the finished cottage with John._

The words hit him like a fist to the stomach. _Not enough time left_... certainly that didn't mean... it couldn't mean...

John gasped for breath as all the pieces finally came together to paint a dark picture. Sherlock's sudden interest in going out on dates, the increased frequency of his dark moods, his plea for John to make love to him... Sherlock was dying.

"Please God, no!"

John bit down hard on his trembling fist to prevent himself from breaking down completely although it felt like someone had just ripped the world out from under his feet. Here he had believed that he might need to convince his lover to see a therapist to treat his depression and now...

_"No wonder that he is depressed when he doesn't even have a month to live anymore."_

A sob was torn from John's throat at the thought. He didn't want to believe that this was true and that he would lose Sherlock... again. But there really was no other explanation for the list and why his lover believed that he didn't have much time left, was there?

The doctor in him wanted to figure out what his lover was suffering from but the other part of John didn't care. Oh, of course he cared what illness was slowly killing Sherlock but not in the way a doctor cared about his patient. He was certain that his lover had had access to every specialist that Mycroft could get his hands on and if they hadn't been able to cure his lover then John didn't stand a chance. No, Sherlock didn't need another doctor. He needed John as his partner and...

God, it was horrible!

John breathed against the burning pain in his chest as a lump threatened to clog up his airways. He had survived Sherlock's death once but he didn't know if he could do it again. The mere thought of watching his lover die and then burying him - again - was almost too much for John to endure.

While he had planned a marriage proposal Sherlock had been dying a little more each day. John felt like a complete jerk. It didn't help that the rational part of his mind was telling him that he couldn't have known better because Sherlock hadn't told him. He wasn't surprised that his lover had tried to endure everything on his own. John would probably have done the same in this situation. Only Sherlock would have deduced that John was dying in a matter of days.

A weak smile tore at his lips as a tear slid down his cheek.

He had to tell Sherlock that he knew and then they needed to decide how to spend their last weeks together. John wasn't sure how he was going to endure this torture but he wouldn't leave Sherlock's side until his last breath.

Taking a shaking inhale John wiped his wet eyes with the back of his hand and then hurried upstairs to his old room. There was no use in waiting any longer when time was running out. John would make sure that Sherlock knew exactly how much he meant to him in the short amount of time they had left together.

OOO

John was up in his room.

Sherlock rolled onto his back at the realisation and stared up at the ceiling. What was John doing up there? He had only wanted to make them dinner and them come back to bed - back to him.

There was nothing of importance in the room upstairs anymore. They mostly used it for storage these days. Sherlock only ventured upstairs when he needed to find an old file or when they went away on a trip and he had to get their suitcases...

Suitcases, of course. John needed them when he wanted to move out. Sherlock swallowed against the bile that rose up in his throat. So it was even worse than Sherlock had feared at first. John wasn't only about to break up with him but he was prepared to leave Baker Street right away. Tears trickled down his cheeks as the idea of a life without John twisted his insides. He had believed he was prepared for it but...

"Sherlock," John entered the room with two mugs of tea in his hands and placed one on the nightstand before he sat down on the bed with the other, "we need to talk."

Sherlock flinched at the words. He had imagined this scene numerous times but he wasn't ready to live through it just yet. But there was no way to flee from it either so Sherlock opted to sit up and stare down at the covers in his lap instead of meeting John's eyes. He didn't want to see the careful arranged expression of sympathy that John always wore when he had to deliver bad news to a patient.

"I found the list on your laptop."

Sherlock frowned at that opening. He wasn't surprised that John had found the list - the password function on his laptop had been disabled for months - but rather that he thought it important enough to mention. Certainly John wouldn't reproach him for wanting to go on these dates.

"Why didn't you tell me? No wait," John added a second later when Sherlock was just about to reply, "I think I know why you didn't tell me but... I would have liked to know anyway."

The frown on Sherlock's forehead deepened. He was used to John spurting nonsense occasionally but Sherlock couldn't even guess on what he was talking about this time. "You aren't making much sense, John."

A bitter laugh fell from his lover's lips but Sherlock still refused to look up as he waited for John to get on with it. There was no way Sherlock could endure this conversation much longer without breaking down when he knew exactly where it was leading in the end.

"How much time do you still have left? I mean I get that it's less than a month but... God."

Sherlock's gaze snapped up at the broken sob that emerged from John and he was shocked to see tears streaming down his lover's face. Was this breakup so hard for John that he was the one who needed to cry or...

_"Maybe you should look closer at the actual evidence instead of trying to fit it to your theory!"_

Sherlock didn't reply to the annoyed statement made by the Mycroft in his Mind Palace but he still headed the advice and recalled John's words. It still didn't make any sense whatsoever. "What do you mean by _how much time have I still left_?"

Another desperate sob shook John's whole body and Sherlock yearned to hug him close and comfort him but he didn't know if it would be the right thing to do. Not when he wasn't even sure anymore what they were even talking about.

"Do I have to spell it out?" John's gaze was an endless abyss of pain as he met Sherlock's. "How long until you die?"

Sherlock opened his mouth to reply and then closed it again with a snap in confusion. "Die?" Sherlock echoed in disbelief. What was John on about? Had he fallen in a parallel universe without noticing it. If this was the case and he had to die in this alternate reality but was to keep John till his death then Sherlock would gladly make the exchange. A large part of him doubted that this was what was going on here though.

"I am not dying," Sherlock stated as calmly as possible but it didn't seem to convince John as he spilled most of the tea when he placed his mug onto the floor and then reached for Sherlock with trembling hands.

"You don't have to pretend any longer." John's hands enfolded Sherlock's larger ones. "I told you I read the list. Why else would you believe that you had only so little time to go on dates with me if you weren't dying?"

"Because you are going to leave me!"

OOO

"What?"

John stared at Sherlock in disbelief as his outburst registered in his mind. There were only a handful of explanation for such a statement. Sherlock's brain could be affected by whatever disease he had and John couldn't expect him to make sense anymore. The idea scared John the most especially as it was the one that was the most logical. Somehow he doubted that he was only having a nightmare or that he had missed an essential part of their conversation. Maybe though - and John clung to that possibility - they had fallen victim to a huge misunderstanding and no one was going to die or leave. Although John just couldn't see yet how Sherlock had come to the conclusion that he would leave him.

"Why should I leave you?"

Sherlock had the nerve to snort at that although he looked like he was going to start crying himself soon. "Don't be obtuse, John. You want to have a family, a wife and children. Of course you are going to leave me. I thought that you already found yourself a girlfriend but," Sherlock averted his eyes, "I was obviously wrong if you aren't planning on leaving me yet."

"What?"

John felt like a broken recorder as he repeated his earlier question again. He didn't even know which part of Sherlock's confusing speech to address first. His mind took the decision from him in the end. "You really believe that I would cheat on you with a girlfriend I have on the side?"

"Of course not. You wouldn't let anything happen between you before you hadn't broken up with me."

"Thanks, I guess."

At least Sherlock didn't believe that John would cheat on him but that didn't make his ideas sound any less crazy. Maybe something was really eating away at his brain and this was the strategy of Sherlock's mind to avoid having to face this reality. God, John hoped not. It was preferable for his lover to have the illusion that John would leave him for someone else than to actually be dying.

"Why do you believe that I want to have children with a woman?" John certainly hadn't said anything like this to Sherlock. So if he started to go on about how John had told him about wanting a family then he would knew that Sherlock wasn't in his right mind.

"You said so yourself."

John's heart sank as the tiny hope that this was all just a big misunderstanding and Sherlock wasn't terminal died.

"We were at a crime scene - the one that was actually an accident - and you told the neighbour of the victim that you wanted to have children but hadn't met the right woman yet."

John blinked. The words and the described scene sounded familiar. It took John a while but then he recalled the terrible accident with the attempted changing of a lightning bulb and how he had been robbed into small talk with a witness. John hadn't noticed that Sherlock had overheard their conversation but that didn't have to mean anything as his lover could be as quiet as a mouse if he wanted to. The seed of hope took root in John's heart again and he allowed it to bloom as he reached out with one hand for Sherlock's face and stroked his cheek.

"Look at me," he begged and sad blue eyes met his own. It tore at John's heart to see Sherlock look so defeated. He still didn't understand how he had managed to convince himself that John would ever leave him for a woman and children but he hoped that he could somehow take that fear away. "I don't want to have children and I certainly don't intent to exchange you for a woman. Yes," John hurried to continue before Sherlock could interrupt him, "I imagined myself with a little family once but that was years ago. I realised that such a life wasn't for me when I joined the military. I am not the type to be a father and even if I had still dreamed about having children one day... I will always want you more than some potential reality without you in it." A tiny spark of hope grew in Sherlock's eyes and John forced himself to continue although it almost made him tear up again. "When I believed that you were dying I," John inhaled strongly, "was sure that I wouldn't survive losing you... again. I can't imagine life without you anymore and I don't want to."

When no words were forthcoming from Sherlock, John reached into the pocket of the dressing gown and retrieved the jewellery case he had brought with him from upstairs. This wasn't how he had imagined this to go but at least it looked like no one was going to die anytime soon.

He popped the lid of the case open and held it out for Sherlock to look at.

OOO

These were rings. Wedding rings!

Sherlock could only stare at the simple bands of silver as his mind tried to work through everything that had happened. The most amazing development wasn't that John had believed that Sherlock was terminal - actually a sound deduction with the evidence that his lover had had at hand- but that John didn't intend to leave him. Not for children or a woman and - from the looks of it - not ever.

He swallowed against the lump in his throat as he reached for one of the rings to inspect it. The surface was smooth and shiny without any unnecessary decorations but it was wide enough to add an engraving if they so desired.

An engraving, of course!

Sherlock smacked himself mentally as everything started to make sense. If John hadn't found himself a new girlfriend - and Sherlock believed him - then the only logical explanation for his secretiveness was this. He had looked for a jeweller on his phone who could engrave the rings because John was a hopeless romantic. Sherlock almost laughed out loud in joy but doubt held him back. Not the same doubt that had dictated his actions for the last few months but doubt as to why Sherlock hadn't seen sooner that John didn't plan on leaving him.

_"Because you saw what your insecurities made you see. Really, Sherlock it's not so hard to figure out." _Mycroft's voice in his Mind Palace sounded kinder than it had in all this time and Sherlock suddenly understood why. During the last few months the Mycroft he kept in his Mind Palace had represented Sherlock's own insecurities and self-doubt. He hadn't been able to face them head on so his mind had sent his brother ahead to deliver them all to Sherlock.

How cowardly, Sherlock thought in a mixture of shame and self-hatred even as another realisation hit him: the fear of John leaving him had been there from the start. Somehow Sherlock had just managed to suppress it so well for two years that it had only registered in his mind in abstract dreams. The overheard conversation had merely been the catalyst to set all his fears loose.

Sherlock shuddered in self-disgust and then glanced towards John. His beautiful John whose eyes were puffy and bloodshot because of Sherlock's own stupidity and who was still looking at him with love.

"I am sorry... that I doubted you. I shouldn't have thought..."

"No," John interrupted him and held a finger to his lips, "I don't want you to apologize for that. It's okay to worry about such things but promise me to talk with me the next time you fear that I am going to leave you."

"Because you don't want to be forced to go out on stupid dates again?" It had been meant to come out as a joke but it fell flat as Sherlock couldn't keep the seriousness completely out of his voice. He had enjoyed all of their dates immensely but if John hadn't then...

"No, you idiot" John shook his head at him and a tiny smile even managed to turn his lips upwards, "I loved our dates and I would be happy to continue them. I just don't want to ever be in the position of believing that you are dying again."

Relief flooded Sherlock's system at John's honest words and his lips twitched upwards of their own accord. "In this case, I have a few more things planned for us."

"Perfect, I hope a wedding is one of them."

"A wedding?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow and almost chuckled when John gestured to the ring Sherlock still held in his hand.

"Yes, our wedding."

"I can't remember you proposing to me."

"Oh for Christ's sake!" John cursed but then caught himself midsentence and a thoughtful expression crossed his face. John took the ring back from Sherlock and put it into the case next to the other.

Before Sherlock got the chance to question his lover's motives and wonder if he had changed his mind though, John wiped his face on the covers and dropped to one knee next to the bed.

"Will you, Sherlock Holmes, allow me to prove to you how much I love you for the rest of my life?"

New tears prickled in Sherlock's eyes and this time he let John see them fall as he smiled through them and gave the only possible answer to this question. "Yes."


	8. Epilogue

**Author Notes: **The last and very short chapter of this story is here.^^ Thank you all for your support and I hope you enjoy this epilogue.

I don't expect I will post anything before Christmas but as I have already finished the Christmas themed story for this year you can expect a post on the 24th December. :)

Have a great time till then!

**Epilogue**

"Don't get stung by a bee!"

"Bees don't sting if you don't aggravate them."

John bit down on his tongue to keep from pointing out to Sherlock that he was a true professional when it came to aggravating people. They had needed to hire three different construction firms until the renovations of the cottage had been finished because Sherlock had managed to insult the bosses of every one of them. Therefore it had taken not one but six months until they had been able to stay overnight at their own cottage.

"Don't pretend that you didn't find it romantic that the first night we spent here was also our wedding night."

John glanced up at Sherlock from where he sat reclined in his chair on the patio but didn't bother to ask how his husband had known what he had been thinking. Sometimes he liked the illusion that his thoughts were still private.

"It would have been even more romantic if you hadn't dropped me while trying to carry me over the threshold."

Sherlock laughed at the reminder of that accident and John also only managed to glare at him for a second before he joined in.

"And do you remember Mycroft's face when Mrs. Hudson urged him to dance with Lestrade," Sherlock got out between laugher.

"Of course and I also remember your face when you caught them red-handed in Greg's office a week later."

"Don't remind me of that!"

John grinned at the look of pure horror on his husband's face at the memory of finding his brother on top of the DI's desk with his legs around Greg. The look on all their faces must have been hilarious and John felt somehow sorry that no one had taken a picture of that scene. It would have made for a great keepsake.

"I was thinking about keeping bees."

John didn't remark on how Sherlock changed the topic and only raised an eyebrow at him at the idea. "Not too close to the house I hope."

"Of course not," Sherlock protested as if he had never done anything unreasonable before and then grabbed John's hand to drag him around the cottage.

"There," Sherlock pointed to a spot at the far end of the backyard where there was nothing but grass and hedges, "is the perfect spot for beehives."

John couldn't really argue against it as he knew next to nothing about bees and how they liked to live. Besides the spot was far enough away from the cottage that John wouldn't have to fear to get overrun by bees if he opened a window.

"They will love your vegetable garden and the fruit trees you plan on planting." Sherlock was actually glowing as he gestured to the parts of the garden where he seemed to see a paradise for his bees in the future.

"Who said anything about a vegetable garden and trees?" John couldn't help but tease his lover although he certainly planned on harvesting so many tomatoes and cucumbers each year that even Sherlock would have to eat healthy.

"You did. Well actually," Sherlock added with a glint in his eyes, "you didn't directly say anything about it but you looked online where to plant which vegetables and fruits. And the last time we were here you measured parts of the garden. You certainly plan on having lots of beds in the garden once we move here."

"Right as usual." John leaned up and pressed a kiss to Sherlock's sunburned nose. "I will prepare us some sandwiches and then we can have tea on the patio."

"If we must." Sherlock sighed half-heartedly. "You know where to find me."

John watched amused as his husband didn't even wait for a reply as he strode up to where he wanted to have his beehives placed one day. One day which was still years - probably a decade - in the future but John didn't mind that Sherlock was planning so far ahead. John glanced at his wedding band. It was still polished and shiny after ten years of marriage and gleamed in the sun as John thanked every deity that cared to listen that Sherlock had finally accepted that he would never get rid of him.


End file.
